


Five times Ray took David and Patrick househunting (plus one time they moved in)

by sloganeer



Series: Life in Black and White [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5 Things, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: After surviving the fall of Rose Video, as well as the last few years sharing a motel room with Alexis, he deserved something better. Patrick wanted to be the man to give David something better.





	Five times Ray took David and Patrick househunting (plus one time they moved in)

**1\. Apt. 6 112 Second Street**

Saturdays are always busy busy in the mornings, catching the bored church crowd after service and the families desperate to get the kids out of the house. It wasn't until David returned with their lunch order in one of the new hemp tote bags that Patrick had a chance to ask.

"Ray is taking me to look at an apartment after work. Do you want to come?"

David looked up from rearranging the layers of his sandwich. His eyebrows were shooting off to the left, which wasn't bad, but Patrick wasn't sure if that meant it was good. Even after two years, he was still learning how to read his boyfriend.

"An apartment?" David asked. "Why, why—when did you decide to move?"

Patrick hid his smile in his shoulder. It was cute how David squirmed, not wanting to show his excitement.

"Remember last Tuesday?" Patrick said. "When Ray stopped you in the hall outside the bathroom to point out how your green algae face mask matched your kimono?"

"Yes," David said, nodding as he stole the potato chip from Patrick's fingers. "Yes, I do remember last Tuesday."

"That's when I decided."

David grinned, but he didn't eat the potato chip. He held it up between ringed fingers, waited for Patrick to open his mouth, then tossed it for Patrick to catch. Which he did.

"So where is the new place?"

Most of the streets in town had been renamed at the whim of councils past. But Second Street, the defacto residential area, had survived. It was the most populated street, with a line of identical bungalows and a cluster of apartment buildings facing each other. If council tried to change the home addresses of all those voters, they'd never survive the election.

When Patrick pulled his car into an empty space, Ray was already there, waving a hand in the air so they couldn't miss him.

"Wait," David said, pushing his sunglasses into his hair. "Why does this look so familiar?"

Patrick came around the front of the car. He grabbed David's hands to stop them from flapping. "Because all the apartment buildings in this paranoid town were built to be bomb shelters in the 1950s." He kissed the downturned curve of David's mouth. "It's fine. Appearance isn't everything."

David smirked down at him. "I can't believe my boyfriend is saying such hateful things to me."

Patrick kissed him again, longer this time, because he loved David even if he didn't always understand his outfits. David swayed towards him, their hands connected between them, even as they heard Ray calling, "Yoo hoo!" behind them.

Patrick squeezed David's hand between their bodies and felt the comforting squeeze in return. "Your appearance is everything," he said, as they walked up the steps together to meet Ray at the door.

**2\. #33 River Court**

On mornings when Ray had outside appointments, Patrick and David had the chance to do breakfast together in the kitchen after a sleepover. Patrick drank coffee, doing the crossword at the kitchen table, while he watched David moving back and forth from the fridge to the counter, making himself a smoothie.

It was nice, this preview of what their future could be like.

"What's the name of the Kardashians's dad?" Patrick asked. "The older ones, not the Jenner ones." Before, the pop culture clues annoyed him and made him feel dumb. But now that he was dating an expert, the crossword in the local paper was something fun they could do together.

David didn't say anything. He was staring at him from the counter, and when Patrick looked up, David turned on the blender.

"I'm sorry!" he shouted over the whirring of the avocado smoothie. "I didn't know it was Stevie's apartment building."

As soon as Ray had taken them inside the lobby, Patrick and David had turned to each other in horrified recognition. As nice as apartment #6 might have been (and it wasn't that nice), they both knew David—and Stevie—couldn't handle living in the same building. They were best friends, but they also had buttons that only each other could push.

David let the blender run as he glared at Patrick, eyebrows wrinkled. Two mornings of this already was all Patrick could take.

"Are you done yet?"

David snapped off the blender, poured the green sludge into a glass, and stood there, hip cocked against the counter, drinking and staring over the rim.

"You're being ridiculous," Patrick told him.

"I'm a Rose," David said. "That's written on our family crest."

"It's a small town, David. You have to learn how to share."

"No," David threw back. But he also pulled out a chair to sit and propped his feet up on Patrick's lap. That was David's apology, and Patrick took it.

He didn't recognise the next address of Ray's list. Patrick used the GPS in his car for the first time since he had fled Toronto, wending on unfamiliar highways, towards a new life.

Now he and David were on a similar journey together, and he hoped they'd find something just as good as he had near the end of the road.

It was a sunny day, so David was wearing his favourite white sunglasses. It was the one concession he made to summer because the rest of his outfit seemed better suited to an underground fetish club in Berlin. Not that Patrick had ever been inside an underground fetish club. Or Berlin.

Patrick had picked khaki shorts and boat shoes (though Patrick had never sailed a boat either). If this house was a bust, they had a picnic basket in the backseat for later.

"No," David said. Patrick was checking his mirrors as he navigated the tight turn onto the gravel drive, so David saw their destination first. "No, no, no," he continued.

"You can't possibly know anyone who lives all the way out here," Patrick said. David smacked his arm.

"I might as well just stay in the motel."

River Court Trailer Park didn't look bad, though Patrick couldn't see or hear water. The trailers were clean and uncluttered. Some had gardens, and a few even had white picket fences. But Patrick only had to see the way David's face was drawn tight to know they wouldn't last a week here.

And David was right. After surviving the fall of Rose Video, as well as the last few years sharing a motel room with Alexis, he deserved something better. Patrick wanted to be the man to give David something better.

"OK," he said. He leaned over the parking brake and cupped David's face to bring him closer for a kiss. "Let me go apologise to Ray, and you can find us a nice picnic spot on the map."

"I'm opening the champagne," David told him.

"OK," Patrick said, but he waited until he was outside the car before he let out a laugh.

**3\. The Residences at Forest Wynd**

Even though Patrick spent most of his time at the Apothecary these days, he still worked for Ray. In exchange for his room and board, Patrick worked in the office a few hours a month, doing the books for Ray's multiple businesses, as well as the shop and a few clients on the side. During tax season, Patrick was even busier, but he and David made it work with the shop's hours.

Patrick wasn't going to miss Ray's unending conversations or how he always managed to catch one or both of them in the hallway before bed. But he was going to miss Ray's curry.

The closest Indian place was in Thornbridge, so instead, a few nights a month, Ray cooks up a huge pot of dal to last them a week of lunches. They had even, when David discovered Ray could cook like his favourite restaurant in New York, hosted a theme night at the shop to celebrate Diwali. (They sold a lot of candles that night.)

David was spending the night, Ray was cooking, and Patrick was making mango lassi for them all. David was at his shoulder, threatening to spill vodka into the blender.

"Hey, hey," Patrick said, using his hip to push David away, but when David swooped back in with a kiss instead of a bottle, Patrick let him. He loved nights like this, so comfortable, nothing special, and Patrick wanted more.

He danced David around the table, pulling out a chair and making him sit.

"I'll just stay right here," David said. He took a swig from the bottle. The cringe on his face made Patrick laugh.

"That would be best," Ray said, lifting a lid to check the potatoes, burbling away at the back of the stove. "Take at look at the brochures." He pointed with his spoon. "I think you'll find something you like."

The house hunting project had been on hold for a few weeks. When he started, Patrick just wanted to get out of Ray's guest room. It was well past time, but he had been so focused on the business, and then the drama that was David Rose. But now that those parts of his life had settled down (Patrick grinned to himself, thinking about how he and David had "settled down"), Patrick had the time to look elsewhere.

His own needs were simple, and Ray's first list of properties had been chosen for Patrick, not Patrick and David. It was turning into a much bigger project, but one which excited Patrick instead of scaring him. This was the next step in their relationship, and he was so ready.

"They're nice, right?" Patrick put one hand on David's shoulder to show him the photos. The Residences at Forest Wynd was a brand new development, with modern kitchens, open plans, and monochromatic design. Patrick was reminded of David as soon as he saw the black and white marble countertops.

"You want to live here?" David asked. His eyebrows were scrunched up in a confusion Patrick had never seen before.

"I thought you'd love this place. Look." He flipped through the brochure to show David the living room. "The fireplace turns on with a switch on the wall."

Gathering up all the papers, David stacked them together noisily against the table, then pushed it all towards Ray. "No," he said. "This isn't the right place for Patrick."

The tone of finality in his voice made Ray turn back to the curry, distracting himself with the multiple pots.

Patrick pulled out a chair to sit. He held David's hand on top of the table. "I'm sorry. I really thought you'd like that place."

"This isn't my decision, is it?" David stood up, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring himself some water from the filter jug in the fridge, the one he had insisted Patrick buy. "Besides, you'd never be happy in a cold place like that."

Patrick shrugged. David was usually right. Dinner would be ready soon, and they needed to set the table. 

**4\. 1357 Juniper Drive**

"This is cute, right?" Patrick cut the engine and got out. After so many false starts, David was, understandably, apprehensive. Patrick walked around the car to open his door for him. "C'mon. I have a good feeling about this one."

"You have a good feeling about Saturday Night Live every week." David let Patrick pull him up out of the car. He put his hands on Patrick's shoulder. "And you're never right. It hasn't been good since the '90s, Patrick."

"Let's go." Most of the time, it was better to ignore David and steer him towards another topic of conversation.

But Patrick really did have a good feeling about this house. It was small, but they didn't need a ton of space. Not yet. It was 20 minutes out of town--not so far that the commute was inconvenient, but just far enough to discourage drop-ins. The old grey stone was in good shape, and the chimney meant there was a fireplace inside.

Ray was also inside, waiting for them in the kitchen. He began talking as soon as they entered, and he didn't stop until they finished the tour in the backyard, a patch of long grass that sloped down towards a creek.

Patrick closed his eyes, breathed in the smell of the country, and enjoyed the moment of silence. That's when he realised they had lost David upstairs.

He was in the smallest of the three bedrooms, measuring the floor space with one size 10 foot in front of the other.

"Hey," Patrick said, making his voice low and quiet. This was the most enthusiastic he had seen David since they started looking at places, and Patrick didn't want to spook him.

David turned his head. He looked shy. He could feel it, too. "I love this house," he said.

"You do?" Patrick wasn't surprised David loved it so much as he was surprised David said the words out loud.

"Well, I hate the cupboards, the walls need to be repainted, and the tile in the bathroom is gross, but we can change all that."

"Of course we can," Patrick said. He could already see them, surrounded by drop cloths, David in designer coveralls, and Patrick covered in paint. The fun of a fixer-upper was doing it together. "I was thinking," he said, stepping through the door, "we could turn this room into a walk-in closet."

David nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

They came together in the middle of the room, drawn closer by the same invisible force Patrick felt every time David was nearby. He had felt it the very first time they met, even before they shook hands. Now, Patrick wrapped his arms tightly around David's waist and squeezed because he was allowed.

"So let's tell Ray we'll make an offer."

Patrick watched David's eyes slide closed, and that's when he noticed how wet they were, how a tear pooled at the corner before David wiped it away with the cuff of his sweater.

"David." He reached up with his thumb ready to brush away any more tears, but David turned away, out of Patrick's grasp. "Wait."

"This is the conversation we're having right now?"

Patrick shook his head. "We both like this house. Ray is downstairs. We can talk about making a list of repairs later. I don't--"

"There's nothing else you want to say." David had one hand on his hip; the other punctuating his words with a fist. "Nothing else you want to ask."

Patrick's stomach twisted itself up. He swayed on his feet, lost, with no idea where David was going, except that he was pulling away.

"You know what I hate about this...house?" David wasn't even looking at Patrick now. "This house makes me feel like a child. This house never takes me seriously."

Patrick stared down at the floor. This house wasn't the problem.

"This...house," David said, his eyes red-rimmed when Patrick finally found the courage to look up. "Thinks I can't handle anything as technical as real life. Might as well make those hard decisions for me."

"David." Two years ago, he might have pushed. Now, Patrick knew it wouldn't help. David was slipping out of his grasp, and he knew he couldn't hang on without losing him forever.

"Anyway." David shook his head, crossed his arms, and just like that, he was done. "I promised my mother I'd help with the weekly wig maintenance, so if you could just drop me off at the motel."

Patrick didn't mention their dinner reservation in Elmdale that night. David needed his space. Patrick was very good at giving him space.

**5\. Joe's Cabin**

He didn't sleep. He laid on his back, crammed on one side of his empty bed until the sun came up, then he gave up and went for a jog. It was so much harder to run without the promise of David in bed when he got back.

Instead, Ray was sitting at the kitchen table when Patrick stumbled through the door, waiting for him with a cup of coffee.

"What's going on?" Patrick asked.

"I heard you get up," Ray said. "I thought you might want to get an early start."

"Sure." Patrick gulped the coffee. The burn on his tongue was better than the fist around his heart. "Did you find those bank statements?" He was grateful for some paperwork to keep him in the office for the day.

"I have another house for you to see," Ray said. He raised his mug and drained his coffee. "Get dressed. I'll drive."

"Ray." Patrick felt his eyebrows go up in a bad Rose family impression. "I don't want to see another house. David and I had a fight."

But Ray wasn't listening. He was headed out the door, and as Patrick trudged upstairs to his room, he heard the engine start.

He wasn't going into the shop today. He might as well take the distraction on offer.

"So," Ray said, as he parked the car.

Patrick didn't want to hear the rest of that sentence. The house was a wreck of a cabin, and Patrick could see that from the car. Now he knew how David felt.

"It was built in the 1960s. No one has lived here--legally," Ray added with a chuckle, "since the '90s."

Patrick followed him through the overgrown brush. He didn't want this house. He didn't want to be here.

"Why?" But Patrick knew why Ray couldn't sell this property. The roof was covered with tarps, and the only window Patrick could see was boarded up. "Why am I here?" he asked instead.

"I know it looks broken," Ray said, holding up his clipboard like a shield. "But I thought you, Patrick Brewer, might be the person brave enough to give it a chance."

It was so obvious, it almost made Patrick laugh.

"So this house is a metaphor."

"No," Ray said. "It has two bedrooms."

Patrick shook his head. Ray continued with his spiel, describing the outdoor bathroom, the hot plate kitchen.

"This house is my relationship," Patrick said. It stared down at him. It stared him down. Patrick couldn't make his feet move to follow Ray inside.

"I need to go," he said. First, it was only to himself, a friendly push. Then louder. "Ray, I need to go. You need to drive me to the motel."

"Oh, Patrick." Ray patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. You always have a room at my place."

"I don't need a room, Ray. I need to talk to David."

Ray clapped his hands together. "A grand gesture!" His eyes lit up. "Get in the car. I know where all the speed traps are today."

Mr. Rose and Stevie were out front when Ray skidded into the parking lot. Patrick threw a quick, "thanks!" over his shoulder as he ran to the door.

"Is he in there?"

Mr. Rose's eyebrows were confused, but Stevie nodded.

"Thank god," she said. "I thought I was going to have to drag you here."

Behind them, Ray called out, "Good luck!"

Patrick knocked.

He couldn't hear the TV, which was David's preferred method of wallowing, or the shower running. He knocked again, then tried the handle. The door opened.

"David?" Patrick stepped inside slowly. You never knew what you might find when you opened the door to a Rose's bedroom. In the last few years with David, Patrick had seen many things he wished he could unsee. "I'm coming in," he added as a warning.

David was on top of the covers on his bed. He was wearing a bejewelled eye mask Patrick had last seen on Mrs. Rose.

"Usually," David said without sitting up or acknowledging Patrick in any other way, "when people don't answer the door, it means they don't want you to come in."

"Then those people should've locked it." He sat on the edge of Alexis's bed. It was unmade, but that seemed safer than trying to get close to David before he was ready. Patrick waited for the next move. He had something to say, and he needed to get it all out.

When it looked like David wasn't going anywhere, Patrick started. "Ray took me to see another house this morning."

"Congratulations. I hope you'll be happy there."

"It was a dump," Patrick said. "Broken down and leaking, way out in the middle of nowhere." After a long moment of David saying nothing, Patrick continued with what he really needed to say.

"I knew it was wrong as soon as I saw it. I didn't even want to get out of the car. I knew it was wrong because I knew you would hate it. And I don't want to live in a house you hate."

"And yet you stay in Ray's back room."

"David."

"Fine." He relaxed a little, finally. Patrick could see the tightness in his forehead smooth away.

"I want us to live together," Patrick said.

"I know." David swung his legs over the side and sat up, pulling the mask off his face. It made his hair stick up even more than usual. "Why couldn't you just ask me that from the start?"

"The last person I asked to move in with me, I also asked to marry me."

"Oh," David said. "So you don't want to marry me, just shack up."

"No, no, David." Patrick reached out to hold his hands. David looked so tired. He kissed David's knuckles. "How do I ask you the same question I asked Rachel when what I feel for you is so beyond? How can that question mean the same thing?"

David wrapped his arms around Patrick and pulled him close. When they stood like this, Patrick was the right height to bury his face in David's neck, breathing in the smell of him and his cologne.

"I don't know," David whispered. "But you have to ask."

Patrick nodded against his shoulder. He wanted to curl up into that space and stay forever.

"You can't make these decisions without me. Not anymore."

"I know that." Patrick looked up to see David's eyebrows arched up. "I know that now," he laughed. "I'm sorry. Sometimes it's just easier to do things by myself."

"I know that, too." David kissed him, and when Patrick opened his mouth, so grateful, David bit his bottom lip, and they both know they are OK again. When they pulled apart, Patrick saw his smile reflected on David's face.

"And," David continued, "when you need to re-order more of those little rolls of paper for the cash register at the shop, I trust you to take care of it all by yourself."

Beaming, Patrick squeezed David tighter. He couldn't let go now.

"But our life? Needs to be an equal partnership."

"Absolutely." Patrick stretched up into another kiss. "So you're going to carry half the boxes of your clothes up the stairs, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Patrick. You don't transport a designer wardrobe in cardboard."

**+1 Home**

It took two months to close on the house on Juniper Drive because Patrick insisted on a home inspection first, then David insisted the tile had to go. They made their renovations list together, but the labour quickly fell to Patrick's responsibility. He corralled a small crew of Mutt, Ted, Jake, and Clark through cleaning, painting, caulking.

David and Alexis did the furniture shopping, sending truck after truck to the house for the boys to unload.

After that, moving day was easy. Patrick had left Toronto with only what fit in his sedan, and the only important possession he had added since arriving in Schitt's Creek was David. All of his books and clothes fit in the trunk with room to spare.

"Are you sure you don't want to take the bed?" Ray asked, standing next to the car as Patrick was trying to leave. "You made a lot of memories on that mattress."

"Goodbye, Ray."

"You can always come back and visit."

"Goodbye, Ray." It wasn't forever. Patrick would be back in Ray's office on Monday to work on payroll for Ray's many contractors, but it was kind of a big deal. "And thank you. You were the first person to welcome me here."

"You might even say I'm the reason you and David are moving in together."

"I wouldn't say that, but OK."

Ray handed him a Tupperware container of dal, they had an awkward one-arm hug, and then Patrick got into his car. As he drove away, he saw his life open up in front of him in a way he hadn't felt since Ray pointed David towards Patrick's desk.

It didn't seem possible that his life could be any bigger than it already was. When Patrick turned his car down Juniper Drive, Roland's truck was already there, a tarp tied down over the boxes piled in the bed. Mrs. Rose was sitting on the porch with a parasol, and Mr. Rose was waving his arms in front of the open door, which Patrick soon realised was his attempt to direct traffic.

When he looked up at their new house, the one with both their names on the deed, Patrick could see David through the window, a dark flash each time he walked past. Then Patrick recognised Alexis's hair, and Ted's chest, and Stevie's plaid shirt.

Patrick's life was already happening, and he was missing it.

He left his car door open and bounded past Mr. and Mrs. Rose.

"He's upstairs," Mr. Rose called after him, like Patrick didn't know.

He didn't stop until he reached their bedroom, and even then, just long enough to grab hold of the straps hanging from David's sleeve and drag him into the only empty room.

"That was very rude," David said. "I was explaining my closet catalogue system, and now they're going to put the T-shirts next to the sweatshirts."

Patrick turned them around the tiny space, a chemical paint smell still hanging in the air, but it was their bathroom. It belonged to them. Patrick would never find Alexis's long curly hair on his toothbrush. He would never have to dress with his back against the door to keep Mr. Rose from barging in.

He hefted himself up onto the counter and pulled on those handy straps until David was between his legs.

"Kiss me in our bathroom," he said.

David wrinkled his nose. "That's, like, the third least sexy thing you've ever said to me."

"But you're still gonna do it." Patrick whispered the words wet against David's ear, biting down on the soft skin there until David shivered and groaned.

"You know all our friends are listening outside the door."

Their mouths met in an open-mouth kiss that Patrick made particularly wet and dirty out of spite. "Outside our door," he said.

"Our door," David repeated.

"Our house," Patrick said.

Maybe they could just shack up forever. This room, with the pale blue walls, the lock on the door, and David between his legs was all Patrick wanted in the world. Asking for anything more than this seemed selfish. But if he wanted anything more, all he would have to do was ask.

And David would already be there, waiting for Patrick to catch up to the rest of their life.


End file.
